


Tensions

by MiracoloDiGigi



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Boys Being Boys, FIFA, Gen, Italian National Team, Nazionale Italiana, euro, famiglia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 03:47:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7919320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiracoloDiGigi/pseuds/MiracoloDiGigi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gigi's feeling a bit nervous about an upcoming match with the Azzurri because he knows it'll be the last tournament he'll be playing with the national team. Chiellini comforts him, then decides they could all use a way to relieve their tensions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tensions

**Author's Note:**

> There isn't really a set time or date for this, it's just whenever Gigi decides to retire. It could be EURO or World Cup, take your pick. 
> 
> In case it wasn't clear:  
> Gigi, Capi/Capitano = Gianluigi Buffon (obviously)  
> Giorgione, Chiello = Giorgio Chiellini  
> Leo = Leonardo Bonucci  
> Barza = Andrea Barzagli  
> Dero = Daniele De Rossi  
> Antonio = Antonio Candreva  
> ('Andrea' mentioned in the beginning = Andrea Pirlo)
> 
> I just love the relationship these boys have. One big happy family!

Gigi had been playing football for so long that he didn't really get too anxious over upcoming games. They excited him, rather. He'd learned that if he went into the matches fearing the outcome, he'd most likely screw up, and they'd lose due to his awful performance. While some of the younger boys spent the night before a match absolutely terrified, but excited all in one, and trying to calm their nerves, Gigi just relaxed; maybe just watch tv, depending on what the hotel's cable had to offer.

However, this tournament was different. He'd be retiring soon; this was his last chance to make his country proud, and while the excitement remained, he too felt as though he was nineteen years old again — terrified of letting his country down, while beyond proud and excited to be representing them yet again. He was fidgety in his hotel room, often getting out of bed to get something from his suitcase before returning to bed... Then repeating it all over again.

"Pirla, sit still, you're making _me_ anxious!" Chiellini called from his bed with a soft laugh; he and Gigi had begun rooming together as of late now that Andrea no longer played with the Azzurri, and both were enjoying having a new buddy, truth be told. It helped that they were already close as it was. "What's gotten into you, Capi? It's been years since I've seen you this nervous for a game."

With a huff, the captain sunk into his bed yet again. "I'm not nervous... Well... Maybe only slightly. But it's mostly excitement." His tone was defensive, but still light, because he knew Chiello was right.

"Oh, is that what it is?" He evidently wasn't as concerned. In fact, he was amused, even snickering lightly in response to Gigi's words. "Because it certainly doesn't seem like excitement. I know what excitement looks like in you, Gigi. You're nervous."

Another soft huff, followed by a scowl in his direction: "I hate that you're right more often than not, you know? It's infuriating." Again, a light tone. He was only joking — he loved him like a brother, and they both knew that. " _Sì, Giorgione_ , I'm nervous. Why aren't you?"

"The real question is, why _are_ you so nervous, stronzo?" He fired right back, but of course, the insult was harmless.

For a moment, Gigi fell silent. Hell, why _was_ he so nervous? He knew he was one of the best goalkeepers in the world — if he had had a weakness, he wouldn't have had such a highly decorated career, he wouldn't be so well respected... And yet, here he was. It was irrational, but he couldn't help it. "I... I don't know, Chiello." He almost sounded defeated as he slumped back into the mound of pillows every hotel seemed to decorate their beds with.

"Well, I do." Of course, Giorgio was too smart for his own good, and he was smiling gently at Gigi as he continued, "You're afraid you'll let the country down. The fans. _Us_. But, you know that's impossible, sì?"

"Impossible? Hardly. Anything is possible." He scoffed, his gaze focused on the ceiling for a moment. Normally he wasn't one to openly express his emotions. He strongly believed that when things got tough, you should just lock yourself away and cry if need be, but never let anyone see you do so — never let anyone see you weak. However, he'd listen to his teammates if they needed to vent because he was their captain, and it was his responsibility to take care of his boys. And of course his paternal instincts played a part, as he was so much older than everyone. "It's just... This is my last tournament... I don't want to end my career on a failure. I want to make everybody happy. _Proud_."

Chiellini slid out of his bed, moving to sit on the edge of Gigi's. He leaned back against the mound of pillows as well, and slung an arm around his friend. "We're all proud of you, regardless. And I can honestly speak on behalf of just about every fan out there... They all _love_ you. You ought to stop worrying so much. You're the best keeper here, Gigi, and we're _the best team_ here. We're going to bring that trophy back to Italia with us, there's no doubt in my mind."

Giorgio's optimism made Gigi smile, and he shook his head some, welcoming his brother's comfort through his embrace. "I know... Right, as always." He chuckled softly, patting his vice captain on the knee, "Grazie, Giorgione. I needed to hear that tonight."

"Prego, Capitano." Chiello beamed like the five year old stuck in an adult's body he was. For a moment he was silent, before nudging him a bit. "I've a way to help calm you down, if you're feeling up to it."

Gigi glanced to him and grinned some, giving a small nod of his head. "What is it?"

As soon as he'd nodded, Chiellini jumped to his feet, yanking the other man up with him. "You'll see. Dai!"

Before he knew it, Chiello was dragging Gigi down the hall. They were both barefoot and ready for bed, wearing pajama bottoms and plain white tee-shirts seeing as it was getting late, but neither seemed to really care.

"Where the hell are we going?" Gigi asked quietly, laughing some.

Suddenly the skidded to a halt, and, after a brief moment of internal debate on which room it was, Chiello knocked on the door to the room on their right. Within seconds, Leo was at the door.

"Chiello? Gigi?" Leo laughed some, leaning on the door. "What are you two doing?" Soon Barza was joining him, upon hearing who was at the door.

"Dai, ragazzi! Time to ease some tension! Who brought the PlayStation?" Chiellini grinned, and soon all four of them were grinning upon realizing what they were doing.

The four ran down the hall to Dero and Antonio's room, pounding on the door repeatedly until Dero answered, looking confused.

"What're you doing here?" He questioned, but he too was grinning, seeing the four so excited.

"You have the PlayStation, sì?" Gigi was the first to answer, arm still around Giorgio's shoulders.

Dero immediately knew where this was going, and he stepped aside, his grin only broadening. "Dai, ragazzi, it's not like any of us were planning on sleeping tonight, anyway."

Nobody did manage to get any sleep. Tensions were too high. As the night went on, Gigi, Chiello, Leo, Barza, Dero and Antonio screwed around and played the newest FIFA instalment, most of the other boys heard the commotion and eventually joined them. Soon, just about the whole team was crowded into the hotel room, whether sitting on the floor in front of the TV, or finding empty space on the beds.

It donned on Gigi then that it didn't matter what the outcome of the game was, or their overall position in the tournament. As long as his boys were happy, he was happy.


End file.
